Good Old England

The weekend was full of fun and frolics and by the time it came to Saturday evening England was in full swing.  Behind the hedge next to the tent (put up in two swings due to winds and rain) a BBQ began. Lighting the charcoal proved to be an interesting feat of engineering and finally the fires were left unattended to do their bit while the humans warmed up and sheltered in the now flooded tent.

With the promise of high winds and rain I left before dark and trotted my way along the towpath to secure the good ship. Boots supervised in his ‘I am standing, it is just the world is the wrong way around’ pose

An early night didn’t prepare any of us for the early morning and 6 people, several phone calls, lots of rope and all the pins we could find ensured that the boat that had come un-moored was secured safely.  The owner started trying to rescue the boat at 4am before waking me at 6am…. ‘why didn’t you wake me earlier’ I asked.  ‘It isn’t right to wake people up before 6am’ was the reply.

Good old England.

The drought was declared but people only took it seriously when the hose pipe ban was issued and then ever since then it seems to have rained!  Sunday was a deluge and the new path was looking a little bit worse for wear:

There is clearly no weather that puts off the trekkers

and the only reason I wasn’t a bag of nerves was because my boat is moored to pole in the foreground.  It is a useful pole and perfect for balancing a tea tray on (Miss T’s photograph)